The Black Cat Knocks on Wood (11 page)

I reluctantly took the piece of paper from Deputy Rosales and looked at it. “Seriously? You’re testing my cat’s DNA?”

“That’s right.” Rosales twisted to scan the area, and her heavily starched uniform rustled. “Where is it?”

“He,”
I said. “A cat is not an
it
. Rather, a cat is a
he
or a
she
.”

“Okay then, where is
he
?” The lines around her mouth deepened, giving her even more of a don’t-mess-with-me expression than usual.

I’d always heard that waiting for DNA test results took weeks. Surely they wouldn’t hold off on a murder investigation while they waited for results from testing cat hair. I suspected Rosales had dreamt up this ridiculous idea about testing cat hair on her own.

“If you came here to harass me, fine,” I said, “but don’t threaten my cat.”

Rosales shook her head. “This isn’t about you. I’m here to see the cat. You want to complain, talk to the sheriff.”

Cody said, “Does this have something to do with my mother’s death?”

“Yes,” Rosales said.

“Oh, please,” I said. “You can’t charge a cat with murder.”

She couldn’t, could she?
I’d rather retrieve Crystal Devlin’s phone and throw Pearl under the bus than let that happen.

“Fetch the cat and quit wasting my time,” Rosales said.

The woman was delusional if she thought I’d hold Hitchcock so she could pluck hair from his body. I did want her to leave, though, and she probably wouldn’t until she got what she’d come for.

“He roams,” I said. “I’ll have to track him down.”

I couldn’t see Hitchcock from where I stood, but the bushes he’d darted into were moving. There was no wind. Cody, to his credit, didn’t point in the cat’s direction.

“What’ll the cat hair prove?” he said.

“You’ll have to ask Sheriff Crawford.” Rosales frowned as she looked at him. “What are
you
doing here anyway?”

Cody fidgeted under the deputy’s attention. “Um, nuthin’. I’m leaving.”

“Hold on.” Rosales put a hand on the boy’s arm. “Odd place to come for no reason. What’s going on?”

“He came to see the lawyer.” I didn’t see the harm in answering this question truthfully. “She’s not here at the moment.”

Rosales kept her eyes on Cody. “What’s your business with the lawyer? She prepare your mom’s will?”

The question struck me as overly nosy, but I found myself curious about the answer.

“No, ma’am,” Cody said. “I mean, I don’t know.”

“You have legal questions, ask your father,” she said. “You’re a minor, so—”

“I’m eighteen next month,” Cody blurted. “Old enough to talk to a lawyer by myself.”

Rosales’s eyes narrowed.

“I have to go,” Cody muttered.

The deputy nodded. “Go on then. We’ll talk later.”

The boy hurried to his truck. I watched him drive away and wished I were going with him instead of standing next to Rosales.

“What’s he want with the lawyer?” she said.

“He didn’t tell me.”

“Has he been here before?”

“Not that I know of,” I said.

“How about Crystal Devlin? She come here?”

“I never saw her here.”

“Did Colletti draw up the mother’s will?”

I shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”

“You worked for her.”

The fact that Rosales knew my employment history creeped me out.

“Even if I knew the name of every client Rita Colletti ever had, I couldn’t share confidential information.”

“Fine,” Rosales said. “Get the cat. Now.”

I sighed. “I don’t understand why you’re singling out my cat in this investigation. Any type of animal might have been drawn in by the garbage strewn about and left hair at that scene.”

“We have hair in a car, hair on a person, and hair at the scene,” Rosales said. “We connect the perp and the cat, along with the right witness statements, and we make our case.”

“But—”

“If you don’t cooperate,” Rosales interrupted, “I’ll find the cat myself and take him with me.”

She knew how to get my attention.

*   *   *

Thirty minutes after Rosales collected the hair, I parked in front of Sweet Stop. Hitchcock, who appeared unaffected by the ordeal, sat on the passenger seat. I’d outfitted him with the harness and leash, determined to keep a tighter handle on the cat so I wouldn’t have to worry about things like him being snatched by someone out to cause bad luck
for an enemy, or a certain deputy out to connect him to a murder.

I was hot under the collar, thinking about Pearl taking off with Hitchcock and then lying to me about it. Not to mention the alleged premeditated text message. The candy-store lady didn’t know what was about to hit her.

I turned off the car and picked up Hitchcock’s leash. “C’mon, boy, let’s go get some answers.”

“Mrreow.” Hitchcock jumped out of the car behind me, and we headed into the candy store. The store wasn’t an animal-friendly environment, but in my current frame of mind I didn’t much care. Besides, I wasn’t staying long.

Inside, I saw only one couple. This was the late-afternoon lull, when tourists were more likely to search out their dinner than buy candy. A perfect time to interrogate Pearl. I spotted her behind the counter, filling little rectangular cartons with chunks of fudge.

“Hi there, Sabrina,” she said when she noticed me, and her gaze traveled to the floor beside me. “And Hitchcock.”

She scanned the store, saw the customers, then glanced at her employee behind the cash register. “I don’t think it’s such a good idea for you to be in here with”—she dropped her voice to a whisper—“the black cat.”

“That’s right,” I said harshly. “You believe my cat is bad luck.”

“No, no.” She closed the top of a fudge box and wiped her hands on her red-checked apron.

“Let’s go outside,” I said. “You don’t want anyone overhearing this conversation.”

Pearl came around the counter and followed me to the back door. “What’s wrong, Sabrina? You look upset.”

We stepped outside, and Pearl closed the door behind us.

“Upset is too mild a description,” I said. “My poor cat is being subjected to a DNA test.”

“Why on earth?” Pearl said.

“Because
you
took Hitchcock from Aunt Rowe’s house.”

“I already told you I didn’t do anything with your cat.”

“The sheriff’s department is collecting evidence, Pearl, and they have cat hair that ties things together.”

She waved a hand. “Not to your cat it doesn’t.”

I blew out a breath. “Explain.”

“I had
a
black cat, not
your
black cat.”

“I told you not to take Hitchcock, so you found a substitute black cat?”

“Exactly,” Pearl said.

“Why would you do that?”

“I wanted Crystal to think the bad luck cat crossed her path.”

I remembered the upheaval at Crystal’s office the day before she died. “Did you take your random black cat to Crystal’s office?”

“Yup,” Pearl said. “I don’t feel so proud about that trick anymore, now that the woman’s dead.”

I shook my head. Was it some sort of law that postmenopausal women lost their marbles? And what did it say about me that I could follow Pearl’s logic in the whole mess?

“What about the text message?” I said.

Pearl’s lips pursed. “What text? I don’t text.”

“I know about the text, Pearl. Go ahead and fess up. I might be one of your best friends right now.”

“You don’t sound like a friend.” Pearl’s lower lip quivered.

“I’m trying to help you, for the sake of your granddaughter and her friend Abby, if no one else. You sent Crystal a text message the morning she died.”

“No, I didn’t,” Pearl said.

“Let me see your phone.” I looked at Pearl’s large apron pockets. No telltale bulge.

Hitchcock walked over to Pearl and stood with his paws propped on one of her knees. He sniffed at her apron.

Pearl patted the cat’s head. “I don’t have a phone on me, honest, Hitchcock, Sabrina. I have the darnedest time keeping up with that gizmo.”

“Is it in the store?”

“I’m not sure. I keep losing the slippery thing.”

Was she being truthful or trying to keep me from inspecting her phone?

“When’s the last time you saw it?”

“I can’t remember. I don’t need my phone to keep the town stocked up on Tootsie Rolls, Sky Bars, Mallo Cups—”

“Good grief, Pearl, think. This is important.”

“We can look inside, but I’m telling you I didn’t send any text message.”

“I hope not, ’cause plenty of people know you and Crystal were at odds.”

“I wouldn’t kill a person,” she said. “What good would hurting Crystal do me anyway?”

Pearl had a point, and that brought me back to the question of who stood to gain with Crystal out of the way.

“Did you spread the rumor about me and Tyanne?”

“What rumor?”

Pearl looked sincere, and this time I believed her. If she wasn’t behind any of these things, who was?

“Let’s go find your phone. And don’t you say one word about Hitchcock coming into the store with us.”

Pearl made a zipper across her lips with a forefinger, and we went inside. I followed her behind the counter, and she reached onto the shelf under the register.

“I try to keep the phone here.” She stooped slightly to get a better reach onto the deep shelf. “Found it. Somebody pushed it to the back.”

She handed the phone to me. “I don’t remember how to send a text. I’d rather just call a person if I have something to say.”

I nodded to acknowledge her statement as I checked her phone’s screen.

The couple shopping, now with a basket full of candy to purchase, approached the counter. I stayed where I was, keeping Hitchcock out of the customers’ sight. Pearl greeted
them since her employee was across the store stocking shelves.

Hitchcock wormed his way around my legs, wrapping me with his leash. I found the text message icon on Pearl’s phone and punched a button.

A screen popped up with only one text showing. The message Cody had described.

I’m ready to make an offer for asking price on the restaurant property. Meet me there. Eight a.m. sharp Tuesday or lose the sale.

My heart sank. How could Pearl have expected to keep this message a secret? A few yards from me, she chatted gaily with her customers while ringing up their candy purchases. She claimed she didn’t send text messages. Maybe she was telling the truth.

I placed her phone on the counter, wishing I’d never touched it and wondering who else’s fingerprints might be on the device. Because if Pearl didn’t send this text message to Crystal Devlin, that meant someone else had. Someone who was setting Pearl up and doing a darn good job.

I wanted to drop Pearl’s phone into one of those little white fudge boxes and pretend the text message didn’t exist. I believed her—she had not sent the message. Someone else had. Pearl wanted to buy the property next door. Killing the real estate agent wouldn’t help her accomplish her goal. To the best of my knowledge, Pearl had nothing to gain by hurting Crystal.

So who did?

A person who knew this particular message would cause Crystal to rush over to the property. A villain who wanted to frame Aunt Rowe’s friend. But who had motive and opportunity? An employee of the candy store? A customer? Or someone who saw Pearl outside of work? Oh, jeez, she’d been spending time lately at the rodeo grounds with Aunt Rowe—a place where many people were well acquainted with Crystal Devlin.

I walked over to the counter and slipped on disposable
gloves used to handle the candy. I picked up the phone and slid it into a white candy sack.

Pearl finished with her customers and came my way. “What are you doing with my phone?”

“Preserving evidence.”

She frowned. “What evidence?”

“There’s a text message from your phone to Crystal’s.”

“There can’t be.”

“I’m afraid there is.”

I explained my theory that someone could have easily grabbed Pearl’s phone when she wasn’t looking and sent the message to Crystal’s number, which Pearl had stored in her phone.

“Who would do such a thing?” Pearl said.

“I don’t know, but we need to turn this over to Sheriff Crawford right away.”

“Who we?” Pearl spread her arms. “I can’t leave now. I’m working.”

“What’s more important?” I said. “Helping to solve a murder or working? The store’s about to close anyway.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m finished for the day. Far from it.” She looked frightened, and I didn’t blame her.

“You have no choice, Pearl.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” she said. “I have to practice with the lasso tonight. I don’t have much time to get my skills up to speed before the big rodeo.”

I propped my hands on my hips. “Please don’t put the importance of that darn rodeo above tracking down a killer.”

Pearl’s face contorted as she thought up her next excuse. “Okay, never mind the rodeo, but I have a lot to do before Julie gets here day after tomorrow. Why don’t
you
take the phone to the sheriff?”

“Pearl, Pearl, Pearl. Unless you want to be behind bars when your granddaughter arrives, you’re coming with me.”

*   *   *

Solving a crime in a book is easy. I can revise what I’ve written until all the clues, facts, and character actions fit perfectly together and lead my protagonist to the solution. If only things were so easy in real life. I had no idea who had killed Crystal or why they had chosen to frame Pearl, if indeed that’s what happened. As I waited for her to close the candy store, I realized the dead woman might have a dozen enemies I’d never heard of.

I needed to be home writing, but I couldn’t seem to disengage myself from the drama unfolding around me. Besides my natural inclination to nose into things, I couldn’t forget that Tyanne’s daughter was counting on me. Abby might call any second to ask if I’d solved the crime and saved her highly anticipated summer vacation with Pearl’s granddaughter from being ruined.

The authorities had involved my cat, for goodness’ sake, and I wanted the case solved before anyone brought his name up again in connection with this murder investigation.

I called ahead and arranged for us to meet Sheriff Crawford at his office at half past six. Ideally, I would have dropped Hitchcock at home before taking Pearl to the meeting, but I didn’t trust Pearl to show up on her own. I had to keep the woman in line for her own good, so I offered to drive her to the sheriff’s department and back home after the meeting. When we walked in, the dispatcher left her desk and joined us.

Laurelle knelt on the floor next to Hitchcock, whom she adored, and brought her nose to his. “You are such a big, handsome fella,” she said, rubbing the sides of his face. “What a good boy you are, comin’ to see me.”

She didn’t mention the testing of his hair, and I wondered if the whole DNA thing was only a charade on Rosales’s part to aggravate me. After listening to a minute of Laurelle’s cat-baby-talk, I cleared my throat.

“The sheriff is expecting us,” I said.

Laurelle looked up. “Right. He told me. He’s finishing a
meeting.” She sat back on her heels. After a final pat on the cat’s head, she stood on creaking knees. “Make yourselves comfortable. He should be out in a minute.”

Laurelle went back to her desk, and we walked over to a row of hard-backed chairs lined up against the wall. I sat down and Hitchcock promptly jumped on my lap.

“Who can be comfortable
here
?” Pearl muttered, eyeing the chairs before she sat. “I could’ve lived happily my whole life without ever seein’ the inside of this place.”

“Let’s just hope for a quick in-and-out meeting,” I said. “Settle down.” Those last words applied to Pearl and Hitchcock. The cat stood with his front paws on my shoulder, and I felt his body tense as he prepared to jump. I held on to him for a moment and looked back at the windowsill behind me then decided
why not?
and let him go. Hitchcock leapt up and paced the wide sill with his leash trailing. I knew Laurelle wouldn’t complain, and thank goodness neither of the deputies were in at the moment.

Pearl crossed her legs and checked her watch. “Can’t stay long.”

“Don’t start.” She’d complained the whole way over, and I’d heard enough.

After a few minutes, a door opened and I heard voices in the hallway. Sheriff Crawford’s deep tone and a second slightly familiar man’s voice. The clomping of footsteps sounded on the hard floor. A door closed. After a moment, the sheriff poked his head around the corner. He was alone.

“Pearl, come on back,” he said.

Pearl shot me a you-started-this-mess glance, and I stood to join her. I picked up Hitchcock, then turned and saw the sheriff holding up his hand. “Sabrina, I’ll see you after Pearl and I are through.”

The two of them disappeared.

I’ll see you? About what? Does he think I want to see him, or does he want to see me?

I’d come to make sure Pearl told the sheriff everything she
knew. I was counting on the fact that he’d track down Crystal’s phone on his own and match up the message at both ends. This would lead to the discovery of the texts between Cody and his mother that the boy didn’t want anyone to see. I was sorry about that, but at least I wasn’t directly telling the sheriff what Cody had shared with me in confidence.

Of course, I’d love to ask the sheriff some of the questions running through my head. Like how many suspects did he have on his list? Had he thoroughly investigated the husband? Did he seriously think testing a cat’s DNA would lead to information to solve the freaking case? I was pretty sure Sheriff Crawford wouldn’t answer any of those things even if I asked.

Hitchcock, up on the windowsill again, rubbed against the back of my head as if he was trying to transfer his thoughts into my brain.

A sudden paranoia hit me. What if Sheriff Crawford wanted to ask me questions about Hitchcock? Or worse, take the cat? I’d feel a lot better if I got Hitchcock out of here. Maybe that’s what Hitchcock was trying to tell me.

Let’s get the heck out of Dodge.

I stood abruptly and hand signaled to Laurelle that we’d be outside. I was dialing Tyanne before the door closed behind us.

After a half ring, she answered with a jolly tone. “Well, it’s about darn time you called me, star writer Sabrina Tate. Where have you been? Busy editing, I suppose. Well, I can’t blame you for getting a head start before I put in my two cents. Kree e-mailed me the fab news. Are you on cloud nine or what?”

My brain took a second to switch gears.

“Uh, yeah, of course. Listen, I need a big favor. Are you still at the store?”

“Yes.” She hesitated. “Why? Where are you?”

“Sheriff’s department,” I said. “Again. There’s been a development.”

“How are you involved?”

“Pearl’s turning over an important piece of evidence.”

“And you are—?”

“I drove her here. I’m waiting with Hitchcock, but that’s the problem. The sheriff sent Detective Rosales earlier to collect some of his hair and they’re doing a DNA test.”

“Hitchcock’s hair? Seriously?”

“Yes, and it’s crazy. Now we’re here—Hitchcock was in town with me—and the sheriff wants to talk to me. All of a sudden I’m scared to death he’s going to do something to Hitchcock, and I’m hoping you can cat-sit for a little while.”

Tyanne’s sigh came over the line. “You come up with some doozy ways to avoid writing,” she said, “but you’ve reached new heights. I’ll be right there.”

I picked Hitchcock up and walked around to the back of the building. I crossed a wide lawn to a stand of trees where we could wait in the shade without being spotted from an office window.

I scratched Hitchcock’s head. “This is probably silly, but I’ll feel better if you go with Ty for a bit.”

About fifty yards from where we stood, the back door of the sheriff’s department opened. I moved behind the trunk of a tree and peered at the door. A man in a ball cap and sunglasses stuck his head out and looked around before emerging from the building. He turned up his shirt collar and walked with furtive steps toward the nearest side street.

Was he a delivery person of some kind? Or had he been the person meeting with Sheriff Crawford when we arrived? In either case, why would he use the back door? Why would he turn up his collar on such a hot day? The guy was acting like an escaped felon, or was that my imagination running wild like it was prone to do?

As I continued to watch, the man pulled something from his pocket. A phone. He touched the phone and put it to his ear, presumably talking to someone, though I couldn’t see his face from my vantage point. He kept moving down the
sidewalk and had walked quite a distance from me when a red pickup pulled to the curb ahead of him. About that time, I saw Tyanne’s SUV heading my way from the other direction. She passed the man and the pickup. When she pulled into the parking lot, I carried Hitchcock over to the driver’s side door. Ty had already powered the window down. Abby sat in the passenger seat.

“Sorry I don’t have a cat carrier with me,” I said. “I sure appreciate you coming over.”

Abby held out her arms. “I can hold the kitty.”

Tyanne didn’t say a word. She was focused on her rearview mirror. I turned to watch as the red pickup’s passenger side door was flung open, presumably by the driver. The man left the sidewalk and ran around the back of the truck to jump in. He pulled the door shut behind him.

I realized who he was at the same moment Tyanne said, “What the heck is Hayden Birch doing over there, and who’s that woman who just picked him up?”

“Mrreow,” Hitchcock said as he squirmed in my arms.

I turned to look at the truck again. As though determined to find out the answers to Ty’s questions himself, the cat sprang away from me and raced toward the truck as it started to pull away from the curb.

“No, Hitchcock,” I shouted. “Stop.”

I couldn’t believe my eyes when the cat made a long graceful arc through the air, the leash flying behind him like a skinny Superman cape. I prayed that the end of the leash wouldn’t get caught on the trailer hitch, and let out a whoosh of breath when the cat and leash disappeared into the pickup bed.

“Dear Lord,” Tyanne said, her gaze still glued to the rearview. “Did you see that?”

I had, and I was already in her backseat.

“Hurry, Ty,” I said. “Follow that truck.”